


Doc, I Think She’s Crashing Out

by FanFreak611



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Missing Scene, Psych the Movie (2017), Worried Shawn Spencer, also me: posts two days in a row, me: doesn't post anything for like a month, title is from epiphany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFreak611/pseuds/FanFreak611
Summary: Shawn only knows two things for certain. One: Juliet has been acting very strange since her partner, Sam, got shot. Two: She's home late and something feels wrong. He just wants hisgirlfriendfiancée to be okay.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	Doc, I Think She’s Crashing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Watched the first psych movie with the discord gang today and we made a list of scenes that would've made the movie even better. This was not on there but I was inspired to write it nonetheless

At the sound of the front door slowly creaking open, Shawn jumps to his feet, nearly tripping over them in the process. To say he’s a little jumpy is an understatement. He’s sat in silence, flinching and looking up at every little sound, for roughly thirty minutes now. He’s never really done well in silence which is why, when a blonde head appears in his line of sight, he lets out a sigh of relief.

She tosses her keys in the bowl and unzips her boots, toeing out of them slowly. Her movements are measured and heavy, and while he can’t see her face, he can tell there’s an air of intensity between them. When she finally does meet his eye- a small glance in his direction-, her expression is unreadable and that scares him. He’s known her for ten years, prides himself on being able to read her so well, so he knows when she’s putting a wall up and it hurts to know that she has one up right now. It hurts even more because he doesn’t know why.

Nick Conforth’s words echo in his head. _”Juliet can’t be trusted.”_ And it scares him because he trusts her more than anyone else in the world (next to Gus of course). He really wants to trust her too, but it’s hard when she won’t talk to him.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, all he knows is that she’s been acting strange since Sam got shot, like there’s some big secret she’s hiding from him. He hates it. They don’t keep secrets from each other, especially not since his big secret nearly destroyed everything. He briefly wonders if maybe she doesn’t trust him because he hasn’t committed to her yet.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, of course, because he does want to- really badly. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. She’s the _only_ one he wants to marry. But he can’t be ready until he finds the ring. He just can’t.

A rattling snaps him out of his thoughts and he realizes that he’s been standing, motionless, in the kitchen for quite some time. Her head is buried in the fridge and pops out a second later as she pulls their water pitcher from within. She hasn’t looked at him again, it’s almost as if she’s avoiding his eye and he doesn’t know if he should pry or leave it alone. But the silence has gone on far too long at this point and he’s itching for a point of human contact. He wishes Gus hadn’t gone to bed early.

“So babe,” He starts, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching as she fills up a glass. “You’ll never believe what happened at the planetarium. Gus met this woman and she’s pretty much _exactly_ like him. He totally got owned too, it was fantastic.”

She looks at him and then places the pitcher down. It lands heavily on the counter causing the water in her glass to jump. He hates this. Hates it so much. Why can’t they just _talk_.

“Okay Jules, what is going on?” He asks, taking a few steps towards her. His brow furrows, chest tightening as she glances down at her water. “You’ve been acting super strange lately and I- I want to be there for you but I can’t if you don’t tell-”

“Sam is dead.” 

The breath leaves his chest all at once and his heart begins to beat in his ears. “What? No. No no no, that can’t be right. He was doing fine earlier. The doctors said he’d recover, that he’d wake up soon.”

Her hands grip the counter, knuckles practically turning white. “Someone-” Her voice breaks, causing her to take a deep, shuddery breath. “Someone got into the hospital, knocked out the cops on duty and suffocated him…. He’s gone.”

He takes another step forward, almost unconsciously. Sam was their friend. Heck, he was practically family at this point. He could hardly count the amount of times they had him over for dinner or worked a case together. He was the kind of partner who always had Juliet’s back and Shawn was forever grateful for that. But now…

“I- I’m so sorry.” He wishes he could say- wishes he could _do_ more. But all he can do is move closer to her until he can place his hand on top of hers. “I’m so sorry.”

And when she finally looks up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, he can practically feel his heart shatter. Time seems to stop between them- the air thick and tense- and then she turns abruptly, face colliding with his shoulder as she buries it into his collarbone. It takes him a minute to register but as soon as he does, he wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her close. 

Her body shakes beneath his grasp, punctured by the occasional soft whimper or sniffle. He begins to run his hand up and down her back, trying to give her a comfort that he knows he can’t provide. Wetness starts to soak through his t-shirt, soon joined by new tears as they streak down his cheeks and pool below his chin. 

“It’s all my fault.” She chokes out after several minutes. Her voice is wet and strained, muffled by the fabric of his shirt but her words ring clear.

His hands still for a moment, eyebrows creasing as he tries to crane his neck to look at her. “What?”

She sniffles, hands clenching the back of his shirt. “It’s my fault this happened.”

“Jules…” He glides his hand up her back, fingers tangling in loose strands of her hair. He can hardly breathe at this point, trying to shove Nick’s words out of his head. Keeps telling himself that she couldn’t possibly be at fault here. “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have kn-”

“I was there.” She cuts him off, turning her face to look just over his shoulder. “I was there seconds after he-” She takes a shuddering breath. “If I had just been there a little earlier, I could have prevented this.”

He sighs, “Oh sweetheart. You could have. Or you could’ve also been killed. There’s no way of knowing.” He swallows roughly, trying to bat away images of her bruised, bloody body lying on the hospital floor. “Just don’t blame yourself, okay? It’s not your fault.”

She nods, just barely, face brushing against his skin but he can feel how restrained her movements are. He knows her well enough at this point to know that she will keep blaming herself and all he can do is be there for her, help her see past the guilt, whenever she needs it.

Another shuddering breath quakes throughout her and she returns to burying her face in his chest. In response, he tightens his hold before pressing his lips against her head. Tucking his nose into her hair, he takes a deep breath, inhaling the fruity scent of her shampoo. It’s all he can to do comfort her, it’s all _they_ can do to mourn.


End file.
